


A Series of Encounters

by Merfilly



Category: DCU - Comicverse, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-27
Updated: 2009-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Wintergreen encountered Mina</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The woman all in dark, concealing clothing had walked around him at least three times, William noted. His uncle was just sitting there, frowning under his spectacles, polishing the stock of that impossibly long rifle.

"I do think he he's a bit scrawny, Allan. Are you certain?"

"Mina, my dear, he is impeccably suitable."

She sniffed, then leaned down to be eye to eye with the boy. "Do you have any inkling what lies ahead of you, dear boy?"

The youth cocked his head, studying her as intently as she had studied him until even her patience withered and she pulled back.

"An adventure, where I make my rules," he finally answered.

The smile on her lips only made the frown on his uncle's lengthen, but he spoke again to the woman. "I told you, Mina."

"So you did."

* * *

It had been a quiet funeral, with so few to come. William stood there, his uncle Athanasius on one side, his mama on the other. Father had not been invited, but that suited the youth fine. The less he endured his father, the better it was for all, as the shame burned deep to look at him.

A look from the veiled woman in black convinced his uncle to take his mother on ahead, leaving young William with Mina, his deceased kinsman's paramour. Parting her veil to look at him, eye to eye again, for she sat on the bench by the walk way while he stood, she tried to see if there was a noted change in him.

"Your uncle chose you as his heir."

"So they tell me, an account and estates to be held in trust until I am of my majority."

Mina could see nothing, but she pulled the lovingly cared for rifle case from where she had hidden it beneath the bench. "Have this now; in time, it will be the key."

"This is Mathilda?" William asked reverently, having listened to so many tales of Uncle Allan's daring escapades with this very rifle.

"Treat her well, William. I shall see you again." She stood, adjusting her veil as the youth looked only at the case of the famous rifle. When he looked up to show his gratitude, she was gone.

* * *

Tempestuous. Ardent. Demanding. Mystery enshrined in nebulous hints and promises. None of these fully captured her essence, the British soldier thought.

Wintergreen rested back on the bed that had, not twenty four hours prior, belonged to a German officer in a forgotten chateau in the hinterlands of France.

His bedmate was already rising, looking as fresh and proper as any lady could, despite lack of clothing and disheveled hair.

"Really William..."

"Yes?"

She smiled at him. "Don't make me need to rescue you again."

His laughter saw her out of the room, before he pulled himself together, knowing he needed to be gone with the plans, away from the scene of the bloodbath below before the Germans discovered their doings.

He did not get to hear her satisfied comment to herself outside the door. "Heir indeed, Allan...in more ways than one."


	2. Work of Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After resurrection, Mina admires the view

"William, have I ever told you that I positively do miss the Victorian age of dress?"

Wintergreen tried very hard to puzzle out what direction this conversation was about to go, as he also kept pithy comments about women and fashion behind his teeth. Any other woman, perhaps they would have come.

Mina was no ordinary woman to be dismissed so lightly.

"The mystery was always far more intriguing then, watching everyone with their bodies so fully clothed. Allan..."

"Mina, my dear lady, we've had this conversation." He needed no invidious comparisons to his mysterious and awing great uncle.

"Ahh, yes, you and your complex." She stopped to look him over, still enjoying the new life in him, hungering, as always, for just a taste of the elixir within his veins, full of Africa's magic and vitality. "Still, you do have a most admirable form for display."

"I am not a piece of art," he said, damning his voice internally for the faintest of whines in his complaint. She did that to him, though, unnerving him as a schoolmarm to a boy half his apparent age.

She appraised his tanned arms, his bare skin stretched taut over a firm chest, defined abs, with only his masculinity hidden by the pants he had donned for their walk in the still too hot Kenyan evening. "I disagree."


End file.
